


stick it out together like we always do

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, sexual tension if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: Missing moments between Beverly and Will throughout the series.
Relationships: Beverly Crusher & William Riker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	stick it out together like we always do

**Author's Note:**

> * Brief sexual content, reference to injuries. *

“Nice dress, Doctor Crusher,” Will Riker says when Beverly comes into Ten Forward in her new purple dress emblazoned with gold patterns. “I almost feel like I've seen it somewhere before.”

It’s not quite as beautiful as the fabric she originally picked out at Farpoint Station, but the likeness is close enough. There is a smirk on his face and she realises why.

“You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you Commander?” she says, coming over to his table.

“What, you accusing me of trying to invent work to impress my captain?” Will says with a sly smile. He lowers his voice. “Besides, I hear you and the captain were having a lot of fun in sick bay yesterday.”

Beverly flushes, but can’t help giggling as she sits down. “Well, if we were, it’s your fault. You infected me with the polywater, remember. Anyway, it was all harmless flirting. Nothing we didn’t immediately forget about. Jean-Luc is a consummate professional.”

She watches the set to Will’s jaw at her casual use of their captain’s first name when he’s still trying to prove himself worthy on this ship. She understands; it wasn’t that long ago she was young and hungry like him, determined to climb the ranks at whatever cost.

They look around the crew lounge, noticing a lot of crew members having hushed conversations in huddles, and a number of them who seem to be trying to avoid each other’s eye. Seems like the two of them got off lightly.

“Would you care for a drink, Doctor?” he asks, and her wide eyes must give her away, because Riker laughs and laughs.

“I’m not hitting on you.” He turns his palms upwards, gesticulating as he speaks. “Not that you aren’t a beautiful woman, but, um, I’m mentoring your son and I think dating a woman with a child might be too big a commitment right now. And we’re senior officers and I don’t think it would be —” He trails off, abruptly realising he should have stopped at the first sentence.

She’s never seen their smooth, confident first officer awkward and on the back foot, and it’s rather charming.

“Thank God for that,” Beverly murmurs. “Relax, Commander. Not all single mothers in the quadrant are trying to tear your clothes off.” She brightens, and beckons him closer. “So, Will — may I call you Will? You can call me Beverly — what’s the dish? I need to know everything that went on and who it went on with.”

“Well,” Will says, stroking at his chin. “I should probably start with Ensign Andrews, Lieutenant Gazem and the arboretum.” He looks around for a waiter. “We need more drinks.”

Beverly knows her taste for ship’s gossip is a weakness, but she’s surprised to find that Will Riker shares it too. They have a good laugh that night, swapping stories about the crew’s shenanigans under the influence of polywater intoxication.

*

Beverly ushers Will into a corner and instructs the computer to pull the privacy shields around the biobed.

“The captain tells me you took the cultural exchange on the _Pagh_ very seriously, Commander, but —” Beverly is frowning. “Sex with _two_ female Klingons? Can I ask, whatever made you think that was a good idea?”

“I’ll try anything once.” Will shrugs. “It was kind of a bet with the other Klingons on the ship. They teased me that I couldn’t handle it, and you know how I am. Anyway, I always thought my stamina was pretty good, but, wow…Ust’ahl and Gratriq sure gave me a run for my money.”

Will doesn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest, though he winces as he sits down on the biobed. She starts scanning him with her tricorder.

“Take your shirt off, Will,” Beverly says, eyes on the tricorder screen as he peels off his top to reveal dark bruises dotted along his ribs. “Two broken ribs.” Her eyebrows lift as she glances at the visual confirmation of her scans.

“Ah,” Will says. He looks down at himself, touching the bruises gingerly. “Explains the pain.”

The tricorder beeps again. She gestures for him to slide his pants down and is glad she's spent so many years perfecting her medical poker face, because — _ouch_. There are several deep, bloody scratches along the inside of his thighs and one across his foreskin.

"Doesn't hurt so much," Will says, inspecting the damage calmly, as though it’s nothing unusual. "And boy, was it ever worth it." He grins, unabashed. “Worf's going to be green with jealousy when I tell him."

“I’ll start by repairing these lacerations, then we’ll work on your ribs. And might I suggest, Will, that you take it easy for the next few days.”

Beverly gives him a stern look and goes to get the dermal regenerator.

She’ll have similar thoughts every time Will’s exploits send him back here — from parrisses squares injuries to getting Cyprion cactus spines stuck in his back, the man certainly knows how to get himself into trouble.

Sometimes she thinks they both enjoy the routine of it, Will coming into sickbay and her scolding him for whatever ridiculous thing he’s done to himself that day.

*

Beverly steps into Ten Forward and orders a drink.

She casts her eyes around, and with a uncomfortable jolt in her chest, finds who she’s looking for. Will is sitting alone — which is unusual in itself, as he’s usually accompanied by some attractive ensign or lieutenant, or Deanna — and so she drops into the chair opposite him.

“Hi, Will.”

“Beverly,” Will says, smiling broadly, but there is initially a startled look on his face that he doesn’t hide quickly enough. “We missed you at the poker game last night.”

“We need to talk about this,” she says. “About Odan.”

In front of her is a man she normally sees as a friend, a brother, her commanding officer, a mentor to her son. Those things don’t compute with the flashes of memory that come back to her — her leg draped over Will’s shoulder as he held her thighs open with those big hands, his mouth all over her; the heat of him inside of her, thick and sure and stretching her so perfectly. That was Odan, she reminds herself, but he wore Will’s body and Will's face, and that’s still so confusing she can’t begin to unpick the implications of it.

Beverly is sure she’s gone as red as her hair, and she downs her Saurian brandy in a way that’s most unlike her.

Will laughs nervously. “Yeah, I know. We should talk.” He turns to flag down a passing waiter. “Hey, Ben, can we get six shots of —” He looks at Beverly.

“Bourbon,” she says, with a decisive look, and Ben winks at her before disappearing.

Will’s eyebrows twitch; he’s a little surprised at her choice, but it’s not unwelcome.

“Excellent.” He smiles. “I figured alcohol would make this go over easier. Tends to help.”

“Well, you’re the personnel manager on this ship,” Beverly says. She takes a deep breath. “Okay. I feel awkward around you, Will, and that’s not good. Not when you’re my superior officer.”

Will is nodding.

“I know you’re going to ask me if I remember,” he tells her. “And I do.”

Thankfully, at that point, the shots arrive and they both down the first one rapidly, not bothering to toast each other in their haste.

Beverly’s eyes water from the burn of the synthehol.

“I can see why you’d feel awkward,” Will says carefully. “But you needn’t. Not with me. You know, I have to confess I’m a little concerned about my performance, given the kind of shape I was in at the time.”

“Oh, no. You were great, really.” Beverly bursts out laughing. “That didn’t come out right.”

“Well, now the laughing’s making me twice as nervous.” Will frowns, but there’s the beginning of a smile on his face.

They take the next shot, and Beverly feels the squirming ache of embarrassment in her chest ease. She appreciates more than ever the knack that Will has for saying just the right thing to pull the tension out of a moment.

“Look, it’s okay, Beverly,” he says, leaning over to place one of his dinner-plate-sized hands on hers. He strokes at the base of her fingers and she’s relieved by how completely un-erotic the touch is. “It was a weird situation, but you’re my colleague, my friend, and I respect you. And —” Will trails off, as though unsure what he was going to say next.

“And you’ve seen me naked,” Beverly finishes for him, gently pulling her hand back, and they both laugh.

Will slides the final shot to her across the table; they clink glasses and throw them back.

“Not exactly a hardship,” he says, and she kicks him under the table. “Sorry,” he hastily corrects. “Too creepy?” He’s smiling his ridiculous, goofy smile and she gets to her feet, rounding the table so she can kiss him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Will,” Beverly says, and there’s mischief in her gaze as she looks upon him. “You’re not so bad yourself, commander.”

With those words, she walks away and they go back to being Commander Riker and Doctor Crusher. Most of the tension is eased by that conversation, and what isn’t fades away in its own time.

*

“He’s checking you out,” Will insists, tilting his head to very obviously look in the direction of the tall, handsome officer over the other side of the room.

Beverly can’t look to see if Will’s telling the truth; she’s already going red.

The _Enterprise_ has put in for extensive repairs at Starbase 87 after hitting a quantum filament. Unfortunately, this means it's Will and Beverly's turn to attend one of Starfleet's many diplomatic receptions. Despite the fancy champagne on offer, they’re already bored out of their minds. Deanna was lucky she managed to beg off this one under the guise of attending a psychology conference on Betazed. 

“ _Will,”_ she hisses. “Stop it. He might see.”

“Okay, okay.” He reaches down to hitch up his leggings. “These stupid dress uniforms are so itchy.”

“At least you get to show off your legs,” she tells him, and he gives her a narrowed-eyed look as if to say _you’re going to pay for that._

“If you don’t go for it,” Will says, a smile spreading across his face, “maybe I will. Who’s to say he wasn’t looking at the both of us?”

“If you dare…” she murmurs.

“Oh,” Will says, triumphant. “So you are interested. Let me see what I can do.”

“Will, don’t,” she pleads. “Will!” But he’s already walking away.

In his usual brazen way, Will cuts a path through the crowd and manages to become fast friends with Commander whatever-his-name-is in about five seconds flat.

They’re laughing about something when Will beckons Beverly over with a hand tucked behind his back.

“And have you met the lovely Doctor Beverly Crusher?” he says, beaming. “This is Commander Lopez. He’s recently divorced.”

Beverly wants to kick Will, but instead she finds herself staring into brown eyes set into a startlingly attractive face.

“Charmed, Beverly.” They shake hands and she tries not to blush.

“I’m sorry about my friend,” Beverly says when Will has made himself scarce. “He’s a little obvious.”

“Oh, Will?” Commander Lopez laughs a little. “He was a couple of years behind me at the academy; I know what he’s like. Don’t worry about it.”

It turns out to be a very pleasant evening (and night) for Beverly.

She comes onto the bridge the next day to relieve Will for the night duty shift, stifling a yawn behind her hand, and his grin is as wide as she’s ever seen it.

“You’re looking a little tired, Doctor,” Will says, his eyes dancing with amusement. He lowers his voice and adds, “I trust you had a good night?”

She mimes zipping her lips and throwing away a key. “I’m saying nothing.”

Will gets to his feet.

“You have the bridge, Commander,” he says in his best, clipped Starfleet voice, but it’s accompanied by a wink before he heads for the turbolift.

Beverly lowers herself into Picard’s chair, feeling ten feet tall and not just from being in command.

It turns out Will Riker isn’t the worst wingman after all.

*

“Okay,” Will is saying, looming over the console in front of him, one foot resting on it. “Now let’s go through the requests from the plant biology lab.”

“Will, enough,” she snaps. “I appreciate that you’re trying to take my mind off Wesley, but inventing pointless busy-work isn’t going to help. You know the chief medical officer doesn’t need to allocate resources for such a small civilian department. Alyssa handles those details.”

Will puts his foot down and looks at her speculatively.

“You tell me, Beverly,” he says. “You don’t even need to be here right now.” He gestures to the blue-and-green-swirled planet visible on the nearby viewscreen. “Your place is with your son on Earth.”

“I wouldn’t help him, not right now. The final hearing isn’t yet scheduled. Wesley needs to prepare.”

Will’s face is sympathetic as he looks at her, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I know they think he’s covering something up,” Beverly bursts out. She's breathing heavily and half a step from crying. “I didn’t raise him like that! To lie to an inquiry. From the way he was acting, I’m almost sure that there _is_ something, Will. Something he isn’t saying.”

She thinks of her pride at the fact Wesley had made Nova Squadron, despite her misgivings over his safety. It hasn't come to much.

Will’s hand twitches at his side, and she knows he’s resisting his usual affectionate impulses in case he sets her off crying.

“I know just the thing to cheer you up,” he says, his face brightening. “Anbo-jyutsu. You know it, right?”

“Learned it at the academy a million years ago. I’m rusty.”

“So let’s play.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Will.” She glares at him. “How is this going to help — fighting with a stupid staff with your eyes closed? Besides, I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those ugly red suits.”

“So we’ll replicate you a nicer one,” he says airily, waving a hand. “Pink, perhaps?”

She gives him a withering look and he taps at the PADD in his hands.

“I’ll see you on Deck 12 at 1500 hours, Doctor Crusher.” The doors hiss open to let Will through, and at the last second he turns around to flash her a full-wattage grin.

They go to the gymnasium, she puts on the promised pink suit of armour and they circle around the ring, trying to poke each other with staves with their eyes closed. She’ll never understand why this is one of Will’s favourite sports.

The third time he sends her rolling to the mat with a thump, Beverly shifts up her visor and glares at him.

“Going easy on me, are you?”

“I don’t think you’d ever forgive me if I was,” Will says, popping up his own visor.

“Just think how terrible my hair’s going to look after being crushed in this helmet,” she says. He smiles, but Beverly can’t bring herself to return it. “What if there’s evidence that Wesley lied? He’ll be kicked out of Starfleet, and it’s all he ever wanted since he visited his dad on a starship.”

“He’ll do the right thing in the end, Beverly,” Will assures her seriously, which isn’t an easy thing to do when you’re head-to-toe in red polymer.

“And what will they do to him?” She flicks down the visor. “Let’s go again. _Yoroshiku onegaishimasu_.”

Will knocks her out again in less than two minutes, and when he reaches over to lift her visor and help her to her feet, she finds she is laughing.

She still doesn’t like anbo-jyutsu, but when it’s all over with and Wesley has come clean and received his punishment, she never forgets the way Will tried his best to take her mind off what was happening.

At least they didn’t expel Wesley, and he will learn a valuable lesson, she hopes.

*

“Whoops!” Beverly says, swaying on her feet.

“Steady on there, Doctor,” Will says, laughing. He slips a hand under her elbow, holding her up as they wend their way along Baker Beach.

It's not especially safe to come here at night during high tide, but Will is shipping out the next day and he's sober enough for the both of them. The sand is wet and firmly packed under their feet, so it’s easy enough to walk along the slim shoreline. It’s been years since Beverly’s been here, not since she was a cadet.

They spent the evening drinking with Deanna at one of the more bohemian Starfleet bars on campus, a send-off for Will. He'd refused to play 'Night Bird', but had happily bumbled his way through a few more jazz standards for their enjoyment. Deanna has already gone to sleep in her quarters — perhaps sensing Will’s maudlin mood and afraid of something happening they’d both regret in the morning — and Beverly was tipsy enough to insist she wanted to go and see the San Francisco bay at night, so they went, just the two of them.

“I can’t believe it’s gone, Will,” Beverly says and stops suddenly, gazing out at the whorls of dark water rolling over the bay. “The _Enterprise.”_

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and his shoulders slump, giving the effect of shrinking his very large frame. She knows he still blames himself, thinking it’s his fault their ship was lost. All Starfleet hearings have cleared him — the shockwave from the core breach and subsequent loss of helm control was unavoidable — and that won’t make a blind bit of difference to Will Riker; she knows that.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she tells him for what is probably the twentieth time.

“I’m starting to accept that now,” he says, giving her a small smile. “It sucks, doesn’t it? All of us scattered like this.”

“I know, Will. I hate it, too,” she tells him. They find a mostly-dry patch of sand to sit on, Beverly wobbling slightly as she lowers herself down.

She is glad to have Deanna with her at Starfleet Medical, but it’s a blow for their close-knit crew to be separated like this. There’s no telling if and when any of them will be together again.

“You know,” Will confesses in a rush, “I leave tomorrow for the _Custer_ and I’m not even sure I want to go.” He picks up a rock, brushing the sand off it with his fingers as he talks. “I know I’m lucky to have gotten a first officer position at short notice, and it’s a decent ship. But there’ll be no Captain Picard, no Data, no Geordi, no you. No Deanna.” His voice catches on Deanna’s name.

“You're in love with her.”

Will would never deny it, nor would anyone who’s spent any length of time around the two of them: walking arm-in-arm through the ship’s corridors, winking at each other on the bridge with some private joke they’re sharing, the public kisses in Ten Forward and the nights they spend in each other’s quarters now and again that they aren’t as discreet about as they think.

“Yeah, I am.” He turns the rock over in his hands. “I guess we both always thought that with serving on the same ship, we had all the time in the world. Whatever else came our way, we figured we’d pick things up again when it was the right time. For real, I mean. Or maybe that was just me. Even when she ended things with Worf, I didn’t know if it was the time to push it. And now I find time’s fallen through my fingers like this sand. I’ve run out of it.”

When Will looks back at her, his eyes are wet. He wipes at them with the back of his hand.

“I guess that’s what I get for sitting on the fence all these years,” he says grimly.

“You’ve still got tonight, Will,” she tells him, reaching out to rub at his shoulder.

“What would be the point of that? I’ll be gone for at least a year. Giving Deanna some big declaration of love right now would only be selfish on my part.” His gaze turns hard. “I can’t hurt her again like that. Whatever happens, I just want her to be happy.”

Beverly has to resist the urge to yell at Will, to tell him to seize love with both hands when he has the chance for it, because you never know what will happen tomorrow. At the last moment, she thinks of Deanna and what she’d say in this situation. She takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she’d only be projecting her own experiences with Jack onto Will, and that isn’t fair.

Will and Deanna are different people than she and Jack were, and if they’re meant to be, then they’re meant to be.

She says as much to Will, and she isn’t sure it helps, but he puts down the rock, wraps an arm around her and she rests her head on his shoulder. They stay like that for a while, watching the waves, the faint orange glow of the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

The wind picks up and they shiver. They stretch and get to their feet with the aim of heading back to quarters.

“I’m going to miss you, Beverly,” Will says, laying a (strictly platonic) kiss on her lips, and she smiles and ruffles his hair in a motherly gesture.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she tells him. “Who’s going to get you out of all your medical scrapes now?”

He digs her in the side, making her laugh and they amble back up the beach arm-in-arm.

**Author's Note:**

> Episodes I used: _Encounter at Farpoint/The Naked Now, A Matter of Honor, The Host, Disaster_ (really shoehorned that one in), _The First Duty, Star Trek: Generations (movie)._
> 
> Title from 'Bros' by Wolf Alice.


End file.
